in this
little heart
where I have held
all I know of love
the windows reach
around and back again
as night birds sing
amazing grace
above a robins rest
babies sleep
breast to tiny
breast
daybreak glows
a loving hearth
while cedars
bend and moan
to bear the wealth
was never meant
for bone

Most days, as I arrive home, I’m scanning the tree line, hoping to see one of three bunnies that live in my yard. They adore my abundance of clover.

The newest is just a baby. This morning, as I walked out before leaving the house, he emerged from beneath a pine, stretching as if I had disturbed his sleep. It’s the same tree where I saw him last night, as my headlights traced the edge of his ‘one of a kind’ bunny ears. Regardless of my day, I squeal with delight when I see him or one of the others.

They remind me of a truth far deeper than ever I could write.

I am a child of nature. There’s no other place where I feel as whole, as blessed. There are places I know of that seem to be as close to heaven as possible. The air is clearer, the pace a bit slower, and even babies stop their crying.

Every breath is one of divine intention, manifestation of a loving God.

I believe the hardest commandment to keep is the last – Thou shall not covet. I feel the need to confess every time I visit Millie’s port. I’m in total envy of her place in North Carolina. I imagine the cool dirt path beneath my toes, the soft shush of wind pushing bough against limb.

There’s a similar spot not far from me, where I cannot pass without stopping, sloughing off my shoes, and wading into waters surely as clear and cool as they were thousands of years ago.

It is my refuge, my recharger. It is home regardless of where I’m going or how long I’ve been gone.

it is here that I
understand
what was surely the
lesson
set deep in my bones
a voice
I remember
from a far distant place

was to gather me
home
a wanting so right
I could lay
side by side
with the stars
tracing back the journey
the ways we had come
returning of souls
unto one

creator of all
calls my beginning
none
no other the same
as the fate
of a sparrow
a silent recall
to the heart
we were sharing
another
one day

a lighted
cathedral
of cedar and spring
windows
propped up
by the night

here I am nothing
everything true
a melding of shadow
endeared to the light
memory given to name

beloved of heaven
writer of wings
breath I have tasted
as mine
is known in this
stillness
where I am begun
from a song
once the robins
were singing
so sweet

The morning unfolded slower than usual. I sat on the porch and watched the feeder, or at least when I wasn’t checking my watch. I needed to go; I couldn’t keep my students waiting. Where are they; don’t they know………

When I could justify no further wait, I rose from the swing – just as a tiny yellow bird arrived to the feeder. I have no idea what kind of bird he is……….and in retrospect, I’m fairly certain he didn’t eat. He merely stopped, raised his head and pushed forward a song which must have been crowded in his little body………. Then he was off, sailing beneath the branches, beyond the fence into the field……….disappearing in a blur of wildflowers.

I smiled, took my last sip of coffee, and closed my eyes……..*thank you* There, my blessing………. If nothing else in this life, this is sufficient. This – payment enough for my trials.

I don’t know about you, but for me, life is filled with these reminders of just how divine the way we’ve come. Tho, surely I’ve made some wrong turns, eventually they brought me to this place. A place of understanding and perspective, reality bound with strings of almost but not quite moments.

Is it faith that convinces me it is as it was meant to be, or something more – a nagging recollection of home?

Maybe it is as simple as timing. Perhaps we have to leave in order to really miss a place; to travel to figure out how beloved the starting point was. Maybe destiny has more to do with our dreams than ever our plans, such that we move on auto-pilot sometimes, held in place by a north star we can hardly see.